"I said no."

A dramatic sigh accompanied with the beginnings of a pout shone back in answer.

"Do you know any other words other than no?"

A quiet pondering and the beginnings of a reluctant smile shone back in answer.

"…no."

Neal rolled his eyes and stood up to begin a bout of agitated pacing, working his way around the tight space of the glass encased office the two men were seated in.

Running a hand through his now longer than what Peter would consider acceptable hair, Neal opened his mouth to agitate him further.

"There is no reasonable basis for saying no."

The agent in the room merely rolled his eyes at this and pointed towards the office exit.

"My name on the door is plenty reasonableness."

Throwing himself back down in the chair he had just vacated, Neal continued to glower darkly in the direction of a supremely unperturbed Peter.

"You enjoy making my life a misery."

Snorting into his coffee cup, the elder of the two couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

"What are you twelve?"

Instead of the witty retort he was expecting, the kid just looked at him silently for a minute before rising from the chair.

"I guess that's my answer then…I'll get back to work now sir."

With that, he turned on his heel and began to stride from the office.

"Neal…? C'mon kid I was only joking, I-"

The sharp snapping of the door cut him off and he watched helplessly as the tense poise of his informant slammed his way back into his chair. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he snatched a file from the precarious pile that balanced on his desk, slamming it down on his desk.

Shaking his head in an all too familiar bout of being utterly nonplussed, Peter sighed before returning to his own ever expanding batch of case reports.

He had no idea what Neal expected from him.

He had bent the rules so far out of shape for that kid over the years that there was a permanent dent in them. He made allowances where he could…but this?

It wasn't doable and he couldn't make it happen, no matter how much the kid thought he could.

He looked up from a particularly dry investment scheme, to the sight of Neal's dark head buried deep in a file. He could practically feel the sullen waves radiating off him penetrate his glass walls. He watched as Neal shot a dazzling smile in the pretty mail clerk's direction, before looking up at his office and scowling.

Lovely.

Dropping his head back into his asinine investment heist, Peter sighed and pushed the attitude to the back of his mind.

For now.

He worked steadily, and before long his stomach was the only thing alerting him to the time passing by. Feeling a pang of hunger, he glanced at the clock and saw it was lunch time.

Recalling the wounded look that had crossed over Neal's face as he'd teased him, he figured bringing him to that raw food bar that he liked might take the edge off.

Even if it meant lunching on freaking pistachios.

Standing and grabbing his coat, he made his way out of the office and made a beeline for his informant's desk.

Rolling his eyes, he cleared his throat by way of announcement when the kid steadfastly ignored his obvious presence.

So much for hoping he would be over it.

Whatever the hell "it" was.

When the reluctant eyes were dragged up, he forced himself to remember that it had to be hard for Neal living in such a vibrant city with a two mile limitation.

Of course, as he reminded him frequently, it could be a lot worse.

Well…not as frequently as he used to, not since El had subjected him to a long lecture about how insensitive he could be to Neal's…stifled soul?

He snorted at the memory.

Jolting back to the present, he shrugged on his jacket.

"Come on bud, let's go grab something to eat."

Neal stared for just a fraction of a second before shaking his head slightly.

"No thanks, not hungry."

Peter sighed.

"Yes, you are hungry…you haven't eaten since that one banana you had on the way here. Now come on, we can go to that rabbit food place you like."

The eyes lit up at the mention of the restaurant, but they clouded over again a few moments later and the head shook once more.

"No, you go on. I've got a lot of work to do, apparently I'm months behind on my summaries."

Peter rolled his eyes once again.

"You are months behind on your summaries, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to eat. Now could you please stop giving me a hard time and come on?"

Neal choked indignantly.

"Me giving you a hard time? Pot, kettle, black springs to mind."

Leaning over his charges desk and practising his soothing breathing Peter remained calm. It was quite the achievement.

"Neal…drop the attitude please. Now you can stay here for lunch if you want to, but you're not nipping out anywhere later if you do. Everyone gets the same lunch period, and you can't swan in and out as you choose. Ok?"

The blue eyes that stared back at him suddenly turned glacial.

"Why don't you just go to hell Peter" the kid but out threw gritted teeth, "I'll be just fine, lunch or no lunch."

The elder man's jaw all but dropped, both at the level of cheek and the suddenly scathing tone being directed towards him.

"Didn't I just tell you to drop the attitude?" he ground out, through equally clenched teeth.

The rolling eyes did nothing to improve his growing ire.

"I don't know, did you?"

That was it.

"Alright. You stay here and sulk, knock yourself out. However, I come back and find you're still throwing that tone around, and you and I are going to be having a much more in depth chat. Clear?"

A heated snort was his answer.

Closing his eyes and keeping his arms firmly by his sides to resist the familiar urge of strangling the kid, Peter took a deep calming breath.

"I said is that clear?"

Jumping to his feet Neal snapped to a mocking salute and stared icily ahead.

"Yes your majesty, it's clear."

Ok no…that was it.

Shrugging off his jacket and being supremely glad that the office was now practically empty save for a filing clerk who sent an askance look in Neal's direction before bolting from the office, Peter opened his mouth.

"Ok. You've done it, congratulations kid. We're going to have that chat now."

Throwing himself back down in his chair Neal glowered sullenly.

"Well yeah, that's what it's called when people talk Peter. Unless we're talking about you, in which case…its mostly just grunting. Suits your IQ I guess."

The jaw dropped another inch.

Peter had known Neal to be cheeky, insolent and downright scathing, but never…never just mean.

He closed his eyes and calmed himself down a fraction of a fraction before speaking once more.

"Go to the conference room and wait for me there please Neal."

His voice, even to him, was loaded with an anger he didn't often possess.

The boy looked up at him impassively from his desk, clearly deciding whether or not to obey the clear command.

Eventually, and much to Peter's relief, he stood, albeit with a snarl and swept past him. His usual flawless manners where nowhere to be seen as he roughly brushed against his shoulder, and stormed from the communal office space and out of sight.

Leaving a thoroughly confused, and not that he'd ever admit it, quite upset Agent Burke in his wake.

What the hell was going on?

With that thought burning into his mind, Peter sighed and threw himself down in Neal's vacated chair.

He needed to calm down.

He needed a clear head.

Fishing out his phone he called the one person who could always help no matter what the situation, and the one person who was especially helpful when the situation was a Neal situation.

After three rings the cells connected.

"Hey hon…"

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, it's about Neal…"

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: So to be quite honest I'd no intention of ever writing another White Collar fic! I felt like I'd lose the rhythm between Neal and Peter, which is why I brought my other story to a close because I felt the writing dipped because of it. But after watching a few earlier season episodes with these two today, I've gotten the WC bug back and this is the end result. No idea where it's going or what's happening, but we'll find out as we go. Thanks for reading guys!